Holiday Fiction: Joy to the World

“Three days ago?” says the white-haired woman who works in the bookstore. She is dressed as Mrs. Claus, Christmas two days away. She puts a hand on her heart and her eyes fill with tears as she gazes at the poster featuring a photograph of the man’s dog – a brownish shorthaired fellow with a big smile on his handsome face.

“There’s nothing sadder,” she says, shaking her head. “They’re so special, so… innocent.” She smiles compassionately. “I haven’t seen him, but I’ll put posters in the window and ask every person who comes in. He’s a Shepherd Lab Collie something mix, isn’t he? You can see the intelligence in his eyes, the way he holds his head, so incredibly alert.”

The pretty young woman in the bakery, her braids peeking out from under a Santa cap, swallows anxiously as the man hands her the picture. “Oh, God!” she exclaims, her eyes widening in surprise. “He looks just like my dog Sushi.”

She reaches out to the man in a gesture of sympathy. “Well, sort of. Sushi was smaller, but her eyes… they were the same.” She shrugs painfully. “Disappeared two years ago, but I still look for her. I mean, not really, but whenever I see a dog that looks like her I just… go to see, just in case, you know?”
She sighs. “Sushi was my best friend. She could read my mind. Always knew when I was even just thinking about going for a walk.”

Now the young woman grows serious, almost grim. “Listen, I don’t know you, but I can tell this is really messing you up, and the thing is you’ve got to take care of yourself. Make yourself rest or you’ll fall apart.” She smiles reassuringly. “Give me two of those posters and I’ll put one on the door and one right here on the cash register.”

In the liquor store, Christmas lights blinking on and off, the liquor ads featuring buxom women wearing Santa caps and skimpy nighties, three men gather around the poster of the man’s dog.

“Terrible thing to lose a dog,” says the tallest of the three. “Lost one when I was a kid. Tore me up. Never had another. Couldn’t bear the thought of going through that again.”

“What is he, five, six years old? Had him since he was a pup?” asks the sales clerk, slowly shaking his head. “That’s rough. I’ll keep my eyes open, but let’s face it, around here, the traffic is murder. Not much chance. But I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Do you think someone stole him?” asks the third man, a college professor buying several bottles of expensive wine. “He’s gorgeous, so I wouldn’t be surprised if someone snatched him. Happened to a friend of mine. He was a wreck for months.” He shakes his head disdainfully. “They shouldn’t consider stealing a dog theft. It’s kidnapping. Horrible. My sympathies.”

“Awful,” says the tallest man, paying for his six-pack of beer. “They take your television you can get another one, but they take your dog, that’s like taking your kid. You can’t just get another one.” He thinks for a moment and adds, “I mean… sure you can get another dog, but not that dog you’ve loved all those years, whereas a television is a television.”

“I’ll put a poster on my office door,” says the professor. “My students ride their bikes all over the place and go where no cars can go.”

Two young boys at the bus stop study the poster of the lost dog. They are wearing matching red baseball shirts with yellow sleeves, blue jeans, and black sneakers. The taller of the two sports an Oakland A’s baseball hat, the brown-eyed boy wears a San Francisco Giants cap.

“I think I saw this dog,” says the taller boy, turning to his friend. “Remember when Toby’s dog was in heat and all those dogs came around? I think he was one of them.”

“But that was two weeks ago,” says the brown-eyed boy, annoyed at his friend. “He just lost his dog three days ago.” He turns to the man and says, “You should definitely hang out at the pound because if they bring him in there and nobody goes to look, after a while they might kill him.”

“How do you know that?” asks the taller boy, glaring at his friend. “You’re just making that up.”

“My father says it happens all the time because they run out of room,” the brown-eyed boy says defiantly to his friend. Then to the man, “You should look at the schools, too, because kids feed them.”

“I hope you find him,” says the taller boy. “He looks nice.”

“Yeah,” says the brown-eyed boy. “I hope so, too.”

The young mother is stringing Christmas lights on the hedge in front of her house while her one-year-old baby girl, garbed in red Santa pajamas, white mittens, and a green elf cap, toddles around on the sunlit lawn. The young mother removes her gloves and takes the poster from the man, checks to make sure her baby is safe, and studies the picture of the lost dog.

“I haven’t seen him,” she says, glancing up to check her baby again, “and I’m very aware of the local dogs because of my baby, and our dog…” She falls silent, suddenly overwhelmed with sorrow. “Our dog disappeared a few weeks before the baby was born. We don’t know if he got lost or was stolen, or worse, but it broke our hearts. He was a Shepherd Lab Spaniel mix. Gorgeous. Reddishbrown. We had him for seven years.”

Looking up at the man, she smiles sympathetically. “You say your dog’s been gone three days? I don’t want to discourage you, but grown dogs usually come home if they can. Whereas puppies…”

Seeing her child toddling toward the sidewalk, the young mother scoops her up and returns her to the middle of the lawn.“Leave me a few posters,” she says to the man. “I have lots of friends with kids and we’re always talking about dogs, so if I scare up any leads, I’ll call you.”

At which moment, the woman’s husband drives up, gets out of his car, and rushes to pick up his daughter, giving her a big kiss on the cheek. Then he steps toward his wife, frowning suspiciously at the man who lost his dog. “Something wrong?”

“He lost his dog,” says his wife. “Kind of a bigger version of Jethro.”

Her husband’s heart melts when he hears the name of their bygone pet. He takes the poster from his wife, stares at the photograph for a moment, then cries in wonder, “My God, I just saw him at the tennis courts. Limping. Hit by a car maybe.”

Now he hands the baby to his wife and boldly claps the man on the shoulder. “Come on. We’ll take my car!”

The day after Christmas, the man and his dog visit the bookstore and the bakery and the liquor store to remove the Lost Dog posters and thank everyone for their help. The dog is still limping slightly, his hip bruised but not broken.

The woman in the bookstore is overjoyed to meet the dog. “What’s his name?” she asks, and the man replies, “Valdez.”The pretty young woman in the bakery kneels beside Valdez and embraces him as a long lost love, and Valdez stands perfectly still as she holds him and weeps.

The liquor store clerk smiles a massive smile when the man and Valdez enter the shop. “You found him,” he shouts. “Merry Christmas, indeed!”

And Valdez understands that each of these people has a bond with his master, a bond that has everything to do with his being separated from his master, and then reunited. And because Valdez knows the great importance of a close-knit pack, he is filled with love and joy.

Mendocino writer and musician Todd Walton’s latest books are Buddha in a Teacup and Under the Table Books. His web site is www.underthetablebooks.com.

 

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